


{Circa 1925} A Colourless Battle

by thatgaywizard



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Love Lost - Freeform, M/M, Regret, [A peice from my Grindeldore fic from Albus Dumbldore’s POV], angst while fighting, some flashy spell work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgaywizard/pseuds/thatgaywizard
Summary: A peice from my Grindeldore fic from Albus Dumbldore’s POV.One of their private battles after Gellert begins to gain notoriety and rise to power.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, grindeldore - Relationship
Kudos: 14





	{Circa 1925} A Colourless Battle

It was a point of breaking that could not be repaired in the same way all other fractures of our own making had been. There were a terrible many cracks and splinters in our coupling but this had been a rend that neither one of us could close, nor do I think that either one of us wanted very much to try at that point. Our differences had become undeniably stark in comparison and we could no longer dim the proverbial lights so as not to see them, we were as the darkness in a room and the moon in the window. I am not so sure that Gellert was not the brightness... too often light is paired with goodness, but we forget how glaringly uncontrollable a blaze is without the shadows to temper it.

It was at the palace that I found him. I still felt a shudder of unpleasant raptness as I beheld him once again in person, tall, stately, severe, dressed in dark military gray, so staunch against the opulence of the architecture which he loved so dearly. His hands were clasped behind his back. His face was not one of happiness or satisfaction, in fact it appeared that he had not been happy for quite some time, if I still knew the man at all enough to judge. He did look as though he had anticipated my arrival in any case and when his eyes found me there was nothing in them that seemed surprised to see me there but a grim resignation. I did not immediately come across him when I apparated there but it took very little time to figure out where he was.

  
His compatriots did not see me, they could not, my disillusionment was beyond their powers and I watched as he sent them away with one hand and then he stood silent for some time.  
There was a raised portion of the room where stairs led upwards and doors lead into other parlors to the left and right sides. I had entered in at the lower end of the hall and he was at the top of that shallow but long flight of stairs, a rich carpet lay over them.  
We were not near one another but every word was clear when he turned to me slightly and spoke. He did not look my way, it was his profile that was offered to me.

“I don’t suppose there is any point in asking you to leave,” he asked quietly.

“I would not be here if my intention was anything other than to remain,” I told him plainly.

  
He turned then to face me fully. His hands were still clasped behind him and it struck me how cold his gaze was. I think it was in that moment he truly believed I had no intention of ever standing beside him in his ambition, and he looked right through me as though I was not truly there. At the time I was rigidly self justified in my cause and it did not touch me very deeply how I had adored him so greatly...yet it had all come to this. I can only thank what Gryffindor spirit lives in me that I had such a sense of self righteous duty to perform that it was beyond my own personal feelings towards Gellert in that moment.

  
Gellert went about things very clinically, first attempting to stun and disarm me. We went through the motions of the spells almost as if we were giving a demonstration on basic dueling before it became more inventive. Even the simplest most common spell can be massively effective when wielded properly and with conviction, not all wizards realize this. Many magic wielders prefer more glamorous or dangerous spells and it is little more than vanity to think that such things will give you an upper hand if you do not first have the self discipline- and dare I say talent- to build up your basic foundation for magic.

  
It proved to be one of my least favourite duels with Gellert, I look back on it with no joy. Many of our conflicts, however violent or discordant our initial reasons had been for the turmoil in the first place, were exciting and passionate; they brought us closer, this one felt lifeless. The duel was cold just as Gellert’s eyes were when he looked through me and we were detached from it. We did it because we had to, not because we wanted to or hated to, but because I knew what was right and he knew I was an obstacle that had to be removed from his path.  
The hall was silent and large, too large for such a clean duel. The hiss and crack like static from the spells snapping off one another did not disturb one item in the room, not a single painting or a drapery was out of place by the end of it. He made his way down the stairs progressively coming towards me, gradually, and well balanced. He did not take the hand that held no wand from behind his back the entire time.  
Most of my spells were non-lethal, I could not even then aim to truly wound him. I cannot say if the same was true for him, all I can say is that he did not kill me, or at least he did not try very hard. Nonetheless we reached a lull where we had come rather close to one another in the middle of the vast room and paused. We were not getting anywhere with this sparing.

  
“Your tricks wont work, Albus,” he said in monotone voice. “I know you’re just trying to distract me.”  
“There’s nothing wrong with my tricks, Gellert,” I goaded him but it was empty-hearted.  
“I’ve already sent my men to intercede on whatever magic you worked before you got here.” He was being efficient, cut and dry, and clearly he had no interest in bandying words with me or wasting time. We use to duel for hours, but today he wanted to be done here and move on whether successfully or not.  
“Then this is all rather needless,” I suggested. “If they were successful then I suppose you’ve already won.”  
“And if they were not then it matters neither one way or the other,” he said in such a very plain way. I hated it when he became that way when we were younger; colourless, passionless, driven without energy! He was immovable like that and it used to frighten me, not he himself, but the thought that I could not provoke any sort of emotion from him. It was like losing him. It did not scare me now because I had already lost him.  
He had lost this battle, I knew that already. I had made sure that he could not touch the royal palace or it’s inhabitants. They were gone and so were his allies. I was fortunate in my craftiness, for facing Gellert’s might head on seemed perhaps appealing but it was not wise without an alternative plan.  
He seemed to listen then, to feel for something, and then he almost sighed. Finally he let his right arm fall from where it had been kept strictly behind him. He knew that his efforts here were futile for now but he wasn’t entirely finished.  
“I suppose I should still attempt to rid myself of your future meddling,” he commented with very little contemplation in his voice.  
“I suppose that would be the logical thing to do, yes,” I agreed because why shouldn’t I have? This whole affair was mechanical in nature and matter of fact seemed appropriate.  
He leveled off a volley of spells and I blocked them each in turn but one, one I was clumsy about. His spell ricocheted off a mirror, two mirrors, bounced back and caught me on the arm. I do not think I got the full brunt of it and to this day I still do not know what it was, but it ran up my arm from my fingers to my shoulder like electricity.

I still feel it sometimes. Every few months a twinge in my bones, pins and needles up and down my arm from my wrist to my elbow or a little higher. It reminds me of him, but it is not as if I need another reminder. His mouth would whisper over the skin at the inside of my elbow later on down the road when I mentioned it to him but he would never tell me what it was.

  
That day I shook the small hit off and kept dueling for the scant few spells we chose to throw before it seemed to become all too pointless.  
Gellert stopped abruptly, he stood up straight, and then he was gone. There were no words, no parting farewells nor threats, no promises of future encounters or secretly nurtured regrets. It was a sterile battle and I left there feeling strangely lacking in triumph that day even though for all appearances I had won.

Once the internal heat of valor that fueled my actions had burned away I was left more charred and hollow on the inside than ever before.


End file.
